Dreams of Venice
by Liisa Vatanen
Summary: While in Venice, Ezio falls not from a roof, but in love. Ezio x OC. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Assassin's Creed. It's a shame really.

**Dreams of Venice**

**Chapter 1**

Being an assassin was one thing Ezio Auditore was exceptionally good at. Being a lover, on the other hand, was not.

He'd been a transient lover on multiple occasions, of course. He was a handsome man, and when one was handsome, one was more likely to be propositioned by various lascivious women. Physical love – that was another thing he was exceptionally good at. He found loving much similar to swordsmanship; he knew just the right moves that would have the most desired effect.

He'd never been with one woman for more than one night. His travels meant that he did not stay in one place for long, so prevented him from being able to commit to a proper relationship with someone. He wasn't one for commitment, anyway- he enjoyed having fun with his women. During the day – target-depending – he was completely professional and maintained a degree of stoicism, and then, during the night, he allowed the hedonistic part of him take control and he would eat fine food, drink fine wine and enjoy the company of a woman in the bedroom. He didn't need commitment. He didn't _want_ to commit.

And that was one of his principles. He would not commit to anyone, and he would continue to have his many night-time conquests.

But there was one woman who had made him change his mind.

* * *

Venice was exquisite. He'd been there often as a younger boy but couldn't remember much of the place. The city, or at least in the upmarket areas, was beautiful. He was perched on the edge of a parapet eating a roll of bread he'd purchased earlier in the day during his stroll around the markets. He admired the way the sun reflected off the water in the canals below, streaking the rippling surface with ribbons of gold. Gondolas drifted by, some carrying passengers, others completely unoccupied save for the gondolier. A group of pigeons were huddled on the rim of the roof just above him, so he tore off a few pieces of the bread and threw it up to them. He chuckled when they all scrabbled for the food, friends suddenly becoming enemies and pecking at each other to try and get their share. He finished the last of his paltry meal off and stood, balancing adroitly on the thin ledge atop the parapet before leaping across the gap and grasping hold of a window ledge on the opposite building. He pulled himself up onto the roof and started running, the vermillion tiles clacking beneath the soles of his leather boots as he went. He jumped from roof to roof, not once misjudging the distance of a gap or losing his footing as he ran, despite the tiles being rather slippery. He paused at one point to survey the area since every roof looked the same, and for all he knew he could have been running in circles. He found it easier to travel by rooftop than by ground-level streets where throngs of people milled about and clogged up the passageways. He was forced to walk instead of run for fear of colliding with someone who could call for the guards. He didn't want to get into any unnecessary trouble.

He wished he was down on the ground when an arrow whistled past his head, vanishing from his sight just as soon as it had arrived.

"Get down from there, stolto!" he heard someone shout. He turned around to see a guard on a rooftop to his left notching another arrow for him.

He had two choices: fight, or flight.

He decided on the latter; he wasn't in the mood for bloodshed that morning. As soon as he set off at a sprint, the guard yelled after him and took pursuit. Ezio was certain he'd outrun him in no time, but he was mistaken when the guard, who didn't look to be much of a runner at first glance, began to gain on him. He pushed himself harder, growing close to the edge of the rooftop he was racing across, and dove. The sparkling azure of the canal came up to meet him and he plunged beneath the surface, the coolness welcome against his warm skin. He emerged, only for a rock to strike him on the side of the head from the hand of the ever persistent guard who was making his way down from the roof. Without another moment's hesitation Ezio swam to the edge where the stone street met the water and pulled himself up, darting towards the wall of a building and catching sight of open doors on a balcony above. He began to scale the wall, the guard's shouts following him and growing louder, and when he reached the balcony he threw himself through the doors and out of the guard's sight.

"What are you doing in here? Get out before I call the guards!"

Ezio, who had landed in the room in a crouching position, only then registered the pair of bare feet he was staring at, and his gaze travelled up the crimson dress of the woman and settled on her face. She was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever laid his eyes upon; and he'd laid his eyes upon _many_ women. However, unlike these many other women, she did not swoon at the sight of him, nor did she wantonly bat her eyelids behind an intricately designed fan. Her hair fell around her shoulders in ebony curls and her chocolate-brown eyes were staring furiously into his. She swiped at him with the roll of parchment she was holding in her hand, "I thought I told you to leave! Guar-!"

She was unable to finish as Ezio had grabbed hold of her and covered her mouth with his gloved hand. She started shouting, something reminiscent of 'let me go, beast!' but that only came out as a muffled squeal.

"I mean you no harm," he said gently.

His words didn't seem to comfort her and she continued to struggle, elbowing him sharply in the stomach so he loosened his grip on her and allowed her to manoeuvre out of his hold. She spun around, her fists raised in a combat stance, ready to fight.

"I'm not afraid of you, estraneo."

He held his hands up in surrender, pushing his hood back to reveal his face in the hope he'd look less intimidating to her. "I don't want to fight you, signora. You have my apologies for trespassing."

A look of puzzlement crossed her face for a brief moment, and she peered at his head curiously. "You're bleeding."

He grazed the side of his head where the rock had hit him, and looked at his bloodied fingertips. "So I am." He turned towards the doors to go out onto the balcony again and leave the beautiful woman in peace when she touched his arm.

"That wound needs cleaning, otherwise it will get infected," she said, all trace of annoyance gone from both her face and her voice. "Allow me."

He studied her for a moment, searching for any trace of a lie. Some women were incredibly shrewd, he'd found on occasion, and she could well offer to help him and then return with a dozen guards ready to seize him and lock him away for numerous misdeeds. There wasn't anything indicative of whether or not she was telling untruths, and so he nodded his assent. "Grazie."

She gave him a hint of a smile before she left him alone in what he guessed was her bedroom, by the large four-poster bed against the eastern wall. In her absence he took the opportunity to poke around, admiring her wealth. The sheets on her bed were made out of what Ezio could only think was the finest silk, and were cream in colour. Upon her dressing table were an assortment of perfumes, incense and an open jewellery box, in which sat a beautiful gold necklace with an emerald jewel hanging from the chain, a selection of rings with various different gemstones in them, and at least seven bangles made of gold and engraved with delicate geometric patterns. Next to her bed was a small table with a candle sitting on top, beads of wax trailing down its sides, frozen mid-descent.

His trained ears caught the sound of light footsteps approaching so he moved swiftly towards the open doors to the balcony just in case he had to make a quick escape. To his surprise, the woman returned alone, bringing with her only a bowl of water, a cloth, some ointment, and gauze. He could have told her he could quite easily go to a street-doctor's stand for medical aid, but there was a chance his rebuffing of her proffer might have sparked offence and so he remained silent. She pushed the glass bottles of perfume and the jars containing the incense sticks aside, making room for the bowl of water.

"Come," she said, beckoning him to her with a flick of her wrist. When he seemed to hesitate, she said amusedly, "I don't bite, you know."

Ezio couldn't help but grin and moved to stand next to her. He was at least a full head and shoulders taller than her, and so was forced to stoop in order for her to reach his head wound. She soaked the cloth in the water and wrung it out, dabbing it lightly on the gash.

"Do you often jump through women's bedroom windows, then?" she asked, the gentle lilt of her voice a sweet music to Ezio's ears.

He chuckled, "only the most beautiful ones."

She continued wiping the blood from his head and dipping the cloth in the bowl, the contents of which had now turned from clear, to scarlet, her expression unchanging. _Idiota! _Ezio mentally exclaimed. This woman was entirely different to the others. Usually when he said something charming like that they fanned themselves and sighed dreamily, but not this one. He thought perhaps she was married, or at least being courted by someone. But then again, that never stopped him. Quite a number of women he'd slept with had been married. To them, he was just a one-night butterfly, a means of getting pleasure without having to worry about anything long-term that might harm a relationship.

Finally, she said, "windows, or women?"

"Oh, windows, without a doubt," he replied.

He watched her lips carefully as they curved into a smile. "I think it is only fair that I know the name of the man who jumps through my apparently beautiful window."

"Ezio," he said. "And it should only be fair that I know the name of the woman whose beautiful window I jumped through, no?"

"Caterina."

"A beautiful name for one with such a beautiful window."

Her laughter rang like little bells around the room, the sound just as beautiful as her voice as she spoke. "Grazie, assassino."

His smile immediately vanished and he suddenly became wary of her. How did she know he was an assassin? Perhaps his array of visible weapons gave it away, although no one else in the city seemed to notice. "What?"

"Don't worry," she said calmly, dropping the cloth back into the bowl and picking up the small vial of ointment. She took the stopper out of the neck and tilted his head to the side. He winced as the salve seeped into his wound and stung painfully. "I'm not going to report you to the guards, if that's what you're worried about." She pushed the bung back into the opening of the vial and tore off a strip of gauze, which she then wrapped around his head tightly three times and then tied the ends together. "My father was murdered by un assassino ten years ago. I recognise one when I see one."

"Why aren't you calling the guards?" he asked, perplexed. Shouldn't she hate him? Hate what he did? Shouldn't she want him dead, like her father?

"I have my reasons."

Though he desperately wanted to know more, he knew it was best not to pry. He reached behind his head and pulled his hood back up so it concealed his eyes. "I must go," he said. "Grazie for your help," she did not resist when he took her hand and kissed it tenderly. "Ciao, Caterina."

He had already leapt off the balcony's parapet, but he heard her voice as a gentle whisper. "Ciao, Ezio."

He had not wanted to leave. She intrigued him. A strange feeling tugged at the back of his mind; he wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know _her_.

* * *

A/N: The meanings of the random Italian words I threw in just in case you didn't know:

Stolto - fool

Estraneo - stranger

Signora - woman/lady


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Some in-game bits in here, which definitely do not belong to me. The series of events is also slightly distorted, which is where I've utilised my artistic licensing a tad. Don't shoot the writer!

**Chapter 2**

His thoughts should have been on something else entirely, and yet they were focused on a particularly beautiful woman. Why she fascinated him so, he had no idea. But she fascinated him nonetheless. Her father had been murdered by an assassin and, despite this fact, she had not sent for the guards, nor had she displayed any form of resentment towards him. She'd known he was an assassin. Her concession begged the question: what were the reasons behind her father's murder? Assassins, like himself, only killed certain people – traitors, corrupt political figures, tyrants and the like. Had her father fallen into any of those categories, he mused. Perhaps the reason why she had allowed him to go free was because her father had been despotic, and when the assassin had killed him she had secretly delighted in his demise. Such a circumstance was not unheard of.

Even Leonardo, who was usually so wrapped up in his inventions or his masterpieces, had noticed his distraction. The painter hadn't even enquired into what it was that distracted him, but instead had clapped him on the back and cried: 'she must be one speciale signora, Ezio!'

He supposed she was special, in a way. A woman had not captivated him quite like this since his Cristina, back in Florence. What he had felt for her was now but dust in the Mediterranean wind. Like Caterina, she, initially, had not been the slightest bit interested in him, but eventually, with much perseverance, her resolve had crumbled. However, that had been before his days as an assassin. The days when his father and his brothers were still alive and well, the days when he could laze about all day by the harbour, and the days when the most immoral thing he had done was pinch a piece of fruit from a market stall. Oh how times had changed.

Shelving the nostalgia, he considered returning to Caterina's house and paying her a visit. It had been two days since he had leapt through her window and they had had a minor altercation before she'd bandaged up his head. Meeting her for the first time had been like the first taste of red wine; pleasant – if not more so – and leaving one wanting more. And he wanted to look upon her features again. He could picture her face, the epitome of beauty, but the mental image certainly could not compare to the real thing.

He would go to her, he'd decided. And if she sent him away, then so be it. At least he had tried. His father had said to him once, 'if you don't try in life, Ezio, then you will never know what could have been'.

He would go and collect the new weapon Leonardo was constructing for him, and then he would pass by her house next to the canal.

* * *

Ezio knocked on the door of Leonardo's workshop and pulled his hood down. He did not need it to hide beneath when he was in the company of a friend.

"Ezio! So good to see you!" Leonardo said when he opened the door. It was always as though he had not been to visit for years and he was greeting a long lost companion. "Come in, come in, I have something to show you."

Ezio followed Leonardo inside, pushing the door shut behind him. Leonardo took him to his workbench, where the codex page Ezio had given him the previous eve was outspread. Next to it sat various pieces of moulded metal that looked too small to be of any proper use.

"It's a mechanism for your wrist, but not a blade," he explained. Ezio stared blankly down at the parchment, the drawings too technical for him to be able to decipher, though he could see the bold outline of an arm guard. "It seems to be a kind of arma de fuoco… but, as you can see," he gestured to the metal fragments that Ezio had dismissed as being useful some moments ago, "small as a hummingbird!"

"Is that possible?"

"I've no idea," Leonardo grinned. "Let's find out, shall we? Take off your arm guard so I can fix the bits and pieces to it."

Ezio did as he was told and stood back to allow Leonardo to work on the device. So far, Leonardo's creations, or, what he had built upon the instructions of various other codex pages, had been successful. Hopefully this next one would be, too.

Five minutes of fiddling and mumbling to himself, Leonardo held up the finished product to admire his handiwork. "Finito, il mio amico," he beckoned Ezio over and handed the arm guard to him. When the assassin had slipped it on again, he said, "try it with one of these," he picked up a small pouch that had been sitting on the edge of the table, and emptied the contents out into his hand. Five small, perfectly spherical metal balls sat in his palm. Ezio gave him a questioning look, to which Leonardo chuckled. "Bullets, Ezio. You are to fire them from your wrist. Here, I'll show you." He loaded the new weapon with the ammunition, "you twist this here, sì? And then you aim and push this-"

A loud bang resonated around the room and Ezio's wrist went flying backwards, only narrowly missing Leonardo's face. The firing of his new toy had sent a mass of vibrations up his arm as a consequence and he tried in vain to shake them away.

"It works! Fantastico!" Leonardo exclaimed with delight, rushing across the workshop in the vague direction of where the bullet had been fired. "Oh caro," he said, still grinning as he stooped to pick up one of his paintings. It was a portrait of a rather large, though finely dressed man with a bowl cut and a very long beard. Leonardo put the painting to his face and peered at Ezio through the bullet hole that was directly where the man's left eye used to be. "At least you hit the bull's-eye!"

Before Ezio left, he asked Leonardo about the new Doge, Marco Barbarigo. The artist did not know much of him, but said that Antonio was the person best to speak to about it. He mentioned the upcoming carnival, which Ezio had heard about but was not especially excited for. "I don't have a mask," he said.

"I can help you with that," Leonardo patted Ezio's shoulder and disappeared off into the back of his workshop, weaving his way around the stacks of paintings piled up against every sturdy edifice. He returned moments later, holding a pure white mask with silver and crimson pattern lining the edges, which he then handed to Ezio. There were almond-shaped holes for his eyes, and it covered the majority of his nose, leaving the tip exposed, as well as his mouth. He was quite glad that when he spoke, it didn't muffle his voice. "The carnevale begins tomorrow eve, don't forget!"

"Grazie, Leonardo," Ezio said as he stepped outside. "Ciao."

Leonardo's workshop was not far from Caterina's house, or, so he thought. Many of the houses in Venice looked alike, and there were many houses situated by the canal that looked identical to hers. It didn't matter to him, though. He would gladly look through the windows of every balcony to find her.

When he was sure he'd found the right house, distinctly remembering it being opposite a small art outlet, he scaled the wall and heaved himself up onto the balcony. He crouched on the parapet for a while, searching the dimly lit room inside for any sign of life. He was not one to get startled easily, but he nearly fell backwards off where he was squatted when Caterina's figure emerged from the darkness and glared at him through the windows. She flung open the doors, her expression telling him that he wasn't welcome there. That would not deter him, though.

"What are you doing here?" she said angrily in a hushed tone. Without the bustle of people roaming the streets to drown out their voices, their exchange would be available for any prying ears to hear. "You're not injured again are you?"

"No," he replied.

"Then what are you here for?" her kind eyes betrayed her glower. She was a good actress, Ezio had to admit.

"I was simply admiring your beautiful window, signora. Don't begrudge me my one and only pleasure in life."

She raised an impeccably plucked eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, though she'd be damned if she allowed it. She held out her hand, a gold band around both her thumb and her forefinger, but nothing occupying her ring finger. It silently pleased him that she was not married, and he took her hand, hopping down from the parapet and following her inside. _Va bene, Ezio!_ He cheered. She sat down at the stool tucked underneath the body of the dressing table, where a thin wisp of smoke was secreting from the end of an incense stick. He surreptitiously inhaled through his nose; frankincense. He plucked at the back of his hood so it fell from his head. "How are you, la mia donna?"

"I am well, grazie," she replied, examining her nails as if she were bored. "And yourself?"

"I am all the better for seeing you," he said. She had to admit, he had a way with words.

"What brings you round here?" she asked, looking up to meet his gaze. "Surely not just my beautiful window?"

Ezio gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a while until he answered her. "You – I want to know more about you."

She scrutinised him, then. Her eyes narrowed and somehow she seemed to retreat back without moving from her seat. "There is not much to know."

"The thing I do not understand is – and do not mistake me, I am molto grato – but I did not understand why you let me go the other day. Why you _helped_ me the other day, knowing I was un assassino."

Her head dropped to the side pensively for a moment, her gaze moving away from his eyes and concentrating on an inconspicuous blemish in the wood of one of the floorboards. "You think I should not have helped you, based on the fact that my father was killed by un assassino?"

Ezio rubbed the back of his head. "I suppose."

Caterina rose from the stool and began briskly pacing the room, the folds of her navy gown swishing around her ankles and billowing behind her. "Because…" He could see the battle of wills going on inside her. Part of her wanted to tell him the truth, and the other part… well, the other part wanted nothing to do with him. She stopped all of a sudden, and lifted her head to look at him again. "My father was un assassino, too. He was betrayed by a brother."

Caterina's eyes glistened with tears, but she blinked forcibly to prevent them from spilling down her olive cheeks. Ezio stepped towards her, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"No," she withdrew from his gesture, moving and situating herself right across the room from him, next to the far, notched post of her bed. "I don't need your sympathy."

"I'll leave you alone," said Ezio, walking towards the open balcony. "You have my apologies for bringing such a delicate topic up. I do not wish to see you upset."

"No, wait," there was panic colouring her voice. He paused, turning to look at her. "Stay."

He nodded his head and leant back against the wall, folding his arms across his armoured chest. Twice he'd made to leave her house, and twice he'd been stopped from doing so. It was no coincidence, he was sure.

"The assassino came for me, too," she continued, her head bowed as she fiddled with the fabric of her dress. She beckoned him closer to her, and he pushed off the wall and did as requested. She turned around, tugging the shoulder of the dress down and revealing to him a long, vicious scar that ran from the nape of her neck down past her shoulder blade and carrying on beneath the rest of her back covered by her clothes. "That was his parting gift to me before I was saved by one of my father's friends – another assassino; another brother. Giovanni Auditore… my saviour."

Ezio's jaw dropped at the mention of his father's name. Caterina shot him an inquiring glance. "That's…" he couldn't quite believe it. How incredibly coincidental that his father should save the girl whose window he happened to jump through two days ago. "Giovanni Auditore is… he was my father."

Caterina too seemed surprised by this revelation by the way her eyebrows shot up. "I remember him well. I... see a lot of him in you. How is he, of late?"

"He… he died not long ago."

"Oh Ezio, I'm sorry," she rested a hand on his arm and looked into his eyes searchingly.

"Grazie, Caterina," he managed a ghost of a smile. Rodrigo Borgia was going to pay; he would make damn sure of it.

"Answer me this," he said after a short, understanding silence. He looked into her deep brown eyes, avoiding looking too deep for fear of getting lost. "Are you going to the carnevale tomorrow eve?" He knew it was a dramatic change of topic, but he wasn't one for morbid discussions. He didn't quite know what to say in such situations, either. It was best he said nothing at all, rather than risk saying something inappropriate and causing offence.

"Sì."

"What mask are you going to wear?" he asked, a cheeky grin painted on his face.

"That would be telling, wouldn't it?" Caterina said playfully, almost... seductively. She stepped back and twirled on the spot so her dress fluttered around her calves and her hair cascaded down her shoulders.

"But then how will I know who you are?"

Her smile was wry. "You will just have to trust your instincts. Isn't that what you assassini do?"

She was clever, this one, Ezio concluded.

"Then I shall do just that," he said. He reached out for her hand, took it gently in his, and pressed his lips to her knuckle. "Buonanotte, Caterina."

"Buonanotte, Ezio."

And with a flicker of ivory and scarlet, he was gone.

* * *

Arma de fuoco - firearm

Finito, il mio amico - finished, my friend

Oh caro - Oh dear

Va bene - good going

La mia donna - my lady

Molto grato - very grateful

Assassini - plural 'assassino'

Buonanotte - goodnight


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry it's been a while since the last update. The events may not appear as they did in the game. Don't shoot the writer!

* * *

When Ezio arrived at the bordello an hour after his visit to Caterina, he entered to see Antonio sitting on a bench with two women at either side of him, giggling and murmuring salaciously into his ears. Sister Teodora was standing to the side, and her eyes fixed on him as soon as he stepped into the vestibule.

"Ezio! Ezio Auditore!" Antonio immediately forgot his women – to their dismay – and leapt up to greet the assassin.

"Ciao, Antonio," said Ezio, placing a firm hand on the older man's shoulder. "I am in need of your assistance." He turned around to greet the owner of the bordello, whom Leonardo had mentioned briefly. "And you must be Teodora. It is a pleasure to meet you." He bowed. Her stone-grey eyes were sharp, as were her cheekbones. "Perdonami for saying, but… you do not look like the typical nun." His eyes swept down to her chest, where the dress only barely concealed her breasts and where a silver crucifix sat in the contour of her cleavage.

She smirked, opening her mouth to reply, when a shrill scream pierced the air and a ragged looking man, wearing similar attire to Antonio's thieves, burst through the doors into the foyer and ran outside. Moments later a frantic young woman came through, crying that one of the girls, Lucia had been murdered.

"Don't worry," said Ezio, heading for the door, "I'll find him."

"Hurry, Ezio!"

Concluding that the murderer couldn't have gone far, Ezio began to the south-east, passing by a crowd of oblivious pedestrians who protested feebly when he barged through, pushing them to the side. Another scream aided his navigation, and to his luck, he found that it was coming from the direction he was already heading. He rounded a corner and saw the murderer standing over the cowering form of another helpless courtesan, her whimpers and pleas of mercy reaching his alert ears.

"Don't come any closer, or I _will_ kill her!" He was waving the knife above her head menacingly while a group of bystanders had gathered around the square, observing the spectacle with morbid fascination. The guards wandering about the vicinity were not fazed by what was happening. In their eyes, a courtesan was someone not worth saving.

Ezio did not know what to do. He could not get any closer because the man would not hesitate to run her through with the blade. He'd already done it once, and he would not be afraid to do it for a second time. He couldn't pounce on him from a rooftop, either, as he was under the cover of a short covered passageway. He needed to think of something, and soon.

Then, an idea hit him.

_The pistol!_

He would only have one shot. If he missed, he could hit an innocent, and the man would kill the courtesan and flee like he had done before. He lifted his wrist and aimed at the man's head, twisting the mechanism as Leonardo had demonstrated in his workshop. He made sure he was to hit the intended target, and fired. It was only when the man fell into a bloody heap on the floor that he realised he'd been holding his breath. He shook away the vibrations that had again shivered up his arm, and approached the courtesan, who was backing right up against the wall with her knees to her chest. He held out his hand for her, pulling her to her feet.

"You're safe now," he said gently, bowing his head.

She looked up at him with frightened hazel eyes, her bottom lip quivering. "G-grazie," was all she was able to utter, before taking fistfuls of her skirts in her hands and running away.

He returned to the bordello where Antonio and Teodora were waiting for him. The two women that had been fawning over Antonio before were huddled together on the same bench, crying into each other's shoulders and dabbing at their teary eyes with small cuts of white cotton.

"It is done," he said.

"Grazie, Ezio," said Teodora, her voice mournful and reflected in her eyes. "I did not expect for such a horrific act to be committed in my own bordello, to one of my own girls. It truly breaks my heart." She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "Please, allow me to offer you a bed for the night. It is the least I can do."

"As long as it is no trouble for you, Madonna."

"Would you like one of my girls to attend to your needs?" she asked, rather frankly. There was not an ounce of embarrassment as she spoke.

Ezio considered her offer for a moment, before declining. There was only one woman in the whole of Venice he wanted to attend to his needs. "That won't be necessary, signora."

"Very well. Buonanotte, Ezio."

"Buonanotte, Teodora."

* * *

Ezio had not had such a good night's sleep in a long while. When he awoke, the sun was pouring through the windows, hurting his eyes when he opened them. He clamped them shut, waiting for them to adjust to the dramatic change in light intensity. The start of the carnival was that night, and would last around two weeks. Every night people would travel from all over Venice, sometimes even as far as Florence and Tuscany, to experience the carnival. Not everyone went to the carnival every single night it was on. He did not know when Caterina would attend, nor did he know what mask she would be wearing. Finding her amongst hundreds of other masked women would be a difficult task. He closed his eyes and pictured her in his mind's eye, trying to remember if there was anything on her body that he could look for, to tell her apart from the other women. Of course, her looks were a defining feature, for he had not seen any woman quite so beautiful, but, alas, her face would be concealed beneath her mask. The scar on her back was an incredibly obvious sign, but she would not go parading around the carnival showing it to the world. Then he remembered the rings on her hands. He had not met another woman who wore rings on both her thumbs and her index fingers. It was a very insignificant detail, but it was all he had to go on. He silently prayed that no other woman decided to wear the same thing.

When he had washed himself, shaved, and dressed again, a young woman, wearing similar but far more modest apparel than Teodora knocked on his door and handed him a tray with breakfast on. He had not had breakfast brought to his room in a long, long time. The roll of bread was warm, and a bunch of green grapes and a small chunk of cheese sat beside it. He had not had quite such an appetising breakfast in a long, long time, either.

* * *

"Now, what is it that brings you here, signore Ezio?" asked Teodora, when Ezio met her downstairs later in the evening. He had spent the majority of the day in his room, writing letters to Claudia and Lorenzo di Medici, who he had promised to update on the progression of his mission. He had already thanked Teodora profusely for allowing him to stay the night, and she had insisted that he was welcome there whenever he pleased.

"Marco Barbarigo. I seek to dispose of him."

"You and many others in Venezia," she said, moving towards the door. She beckoned him and Antonio, who had been sitting on the welcome bench scribbling something down on a piece of parchment, to follow. "Come. Walk with me."

The two men did as they were told, with Ezio slipping on the mask that Leonardo had given to him so he would remain undetected by the guards. As much as he enjoyed fighting them and listening to their pretentious threats, and as much as he enjoyed a good game of hide and seek – with him as the hider and they as the seekers – he was more interested in finding a way to get to Marco Barbarigo.

"The Doge is hosting a party as always, on the fourth eve of carnevale," said Teodora as they neared the hub of the carnival, where jesters juggled and swallowed fire and people danced to the music played on the lutes and flutes. "But only those with a golden mask may enter. I heard that whoever wins the carnevale games wins a golden mask, thus winning entry into the Doge's party. So, Ezio, it is up to you to win those games. You'd better hurry, though – you only have two more nights after this one to compete before the party commences."

"Grazie Teodora."

He turned away, quickly scanning the area for any immediate threats. It was somewhat of a habit, and he knew that no one would know who he truly was given that he was wearing a mask. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, he always thought. He moved towards the large throng of finely dressed men and women in the middle of the square, all of whom were dancing with each other, and slowly wandered around the periphery, keeping his eyes trained on the hands of the women. To his dismay, he saw no rings. He did however catch sight of Leonardo standing behind an easel some distance away, a pallet of paints in his one hand, and a paintbrush in the other, painting the scene. He felt a hand graze his arm, and he turned to see a woman, whose blonde hair tied in a bun told him that she was not Caterina.

"A dance, signore?" she smiled at him, her face hidden behind a full-face mask with gold patterns decorating the eyes and golden feathers fanning upwards on the one side.

"Desolato, signora," he replied, "I am not much of a dancer."

She pouted briefly, before a broad-shouldered man with a build that was twice the size of Ezio's shoved him out of the way and said that he would gladly dance with such a 'beautiful woman'. Ezio did not have to see her face to know that her beauty would never compare to Caterina's.

He spent another half an hour walking around the square searching the hands of every woman he saw, and having to decline at least another four who asked him to dance. Carnival blurred the boundaries between the social classes, and seemed to grant ordinarily shy women a greater degree of confidence when they were safely behind the protection of the masks they wore. He decided that since Caterina was not there, he would participate in one of the carnival games so that he may be one step closer to entrance to the Doge's party. He knew that that was what he was really supposed to be there for, and he oughtn't let a woman distract him from his duties. But Caterina was a beautiful distraction, nevertheless.

The first game he took part in was a race. He had to get from the carnival square to a small galleon on the canal in the fastest time possible. Naturally, speed was one of Ezio's gifts, among others, and he reached the vessel with plenty of time to spare. The man waiting on the boat congratulated him, and upon his return to the square, he was announced the winner of the race. He stepped down from the stage, and once again interspersed himself with the crowd. Bored of the festivities for one night, he decided to return to the bordello.

The sound of the music and people's cheering and chatter began to fade away as he moved further and further away from the carnival plaza, travelling down deserted streets and crossing empty bridges.

"Get off me, Alberto!" he heard a woman shout. "Stop! Don't! Please!" The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Ezio was too busy concentrating on the direction from where it was coming than where he may have heard it before.

To the west, he deduced.

More shouts of protest guided him, and when he hurried down the street, turning to the left, he saw two figures in the shadow, against the far wall of a small garden fenced off with black metal where vines and ivy twined around the metal stems. The woman, wearing a navy mask that covered only her eyes, with silver leaf-shaped appendices fixed to the left side, was struggling against a man who appeared to be attempting to force himself on her. She was putting up a good fight, but the man's strength was far greater than her own and he smacked her with the back of his hand on her cheek before slamming his forearm against her collarbone so that she was pressed right up against the wall. Ezio did not hesitate and sprinted through the arch of the enclosed garden, grasping hold of the man's shoulders and pulling him away, hurling him into the metal screen. The man, whom the woman had referred to as Alberto earlier, picked himself up off the ground and growled at the intruder. "What are you doing?"

"You need to learn to treat women with a bit of respect, bastardo," said Ezio calmly. He could not stand men who thought they could freely dominate women without their consent. It made the anger boil in his veins.

This only enraged Alberto further, and he charged, drawing the sword that was tied to his waist, and raising it above his head, ready to strike. Ezio wasted no time in unsheathing his own sword, and the sound of metal meeting metal rang out into the night air. Alberto could not match Ezio's prowess with a blade, and every time he went to strike, Ezio parried. At one point, Ezio disarmed him, and his sword clattered to the ground. The assassin's fist met Alberto's jaw and he staggered backwards, clutching his face. "You'll pay for this, estraneo!" he shouted, walking backwards towards the archway. He turned on his heel and fled, leaving the sword, which appeared to be rather expensive judging by the array of jewels encrusted into the hilt, lying on the paved ground.

Ezio turned around to check the woman he had saved from a horrid fate was okay. A hand was covering her mouth in shock, and he noticed that on her thumb and index finger were two gold bands.

"Caterina?" he pulled down his hood and took off his mask, stepping towards her and placing a hand on her shoulder. She had not moved, and had not said a word since the fight had begun.

She looked up at him with chocolate eyes, and he knew it was her. "Ezio…" She reached up and pulled off her mask, allowing strands of wavy ebony hair to fall across her face. With the utmost gentleness, Ezio brushed them away as tears began to spill down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but he hushed her and told her she needn't say a word.

She dropped her mask when she stepped into his arms and he held her tightly as she wept into his chest.

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A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favourited this story. It really does mean a lot!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm sorry for the ridiculously long time it's taken for me to update this story, but I lost my inspiration for it and then I had exams and then I started university, so life's been pretty hectic lately. Also, my apologies for the abysmally short length of this chapter, but I hope it doesn't disappoint (too much). Merry Christmas!**

* * *

As he held Caterina's trembling form in his arms, Ezio vowed to make Alberto pay for what he'd done. To violate a woman in such a way was unforgivable and he simply would not allow the fiend to get away with it.

It was after a long time of silence that she looked up at him, the tears in her eyes sparkling in the light of the moon, and said, "Thank you, Ezio."

He smiled gently. It faded when his eyes wandered to the angry red mark and the small cut on her cheek from where Alberto had struck her. "Let's get you home," he said, stooping to pick her mask up off the ground.

The walk back to Caterina's house was a silent one, though not at all awkward. It was a time for reflection. All thoughts about Marco Barbarigo and his mission were pushed right to the edges of his mind, temporarily forgotten. All he could think about was finding and hurting Alberto as he had hurt Caterina.

He ushered her up to her room, insisting that he was going to see to her sore cheek and insisting that he was perfectly capable of finding a bowl, a cloth and some water all by himself. It didn't take him long to find a small bowl to fill with water, and he found a small vial of ointment that should reduce the swelling on her cheek. He took a moment to admire her decor; it was so fine it surely belonged to a woman of wealth. Ornate bookcases filled with books lined the walls, and where there were no bookcases, there were beautiful – and hellishly expensive, he could imagine – paintings. None by Leonardo though, he concluded, or none of Leonardo's that he'd seen, anyway.

When he entered her room she was sitting at the dressing table, her hands hiding her face as quieted sobs escaped her lips. He set the bowl down next to her and touched her shoulder lightly, unable to find words that would comfort her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured shakily.

"Why?" He asked, puzzled.

"I'm sure you weren't planning on spending your night with a sobbing wreck like me," she explained, "you probably have better places to be; better people to see."

_If__ only__ she__ knew__ I__'__d__ been __searching__ for__ her __at__ the__ carnevale__ the __entire__ eve_, Ezio mentally sighed. "I'm not going anywhere, Caterina," he said, his tone warm but with an edge of finality. "There is no place better to be than here or person better to see, than you, bella."

She looked up at him with fresh tears in her eyes and he saw the faintest of smiles flicker briefly across her lips before it became a grimace. She touched her throbbing cheek lightly. "The ring he was wearing made it worse."

Ezio reached into the bowl and wrung out the cloth, gently placing it over the scarlet, swollen skin to soothe. "You knew him, didn't you?"

She closed her eyes and nodded solemnly. "He used to court me. He was a gentleman, once upon a time…"

"He changed?"

"The moment I told him I didn't love him," she said. "We'd been together for quite some time, but… I think I was in love with the _idea_ of being with him, rather than _in __love_ with him. When I realised my true feelings, I knew I couldn't live the lie anymore." She stared ruefully at her reflection in the mirror. "I shouldn't have led him on as I did… now I've paid the price for my foolishness…"

"No," Ezio shook his head, locking eyes with her reflection. "No. I won't allow you to blame yourself for what that bastardo has done." He covered her hand as it rested on the dresser with one of his own. The other still remained holding the damp, cooling cloth in place. "There is no excuse for his behaviour."

"I…" she began, closing her eyes as she tried to fight back more tears. "What you saved me from… it was not the first time he's tried." A single tear escaped down her cheek from the outer corner of her eye. "But it was the first time he failed." He felt his heart break for her, then. Whatever resolve she'd been holding crumbled and she broke down again, weeping violently. He put the cloth back into the bowl and pulled her into an embrace, gently stroking her hair.

"He won't hurt you again. I'll make sure of it."

She pulled away slightly so that she could look at his face. He watched as her trembling fingers grazed the metal of the hidden blade encased in leather, and when he shifted his gaze to hers, it was a silent but sombre request. "He is no longer the man I used to know."

"Caterina…"

"Please, Ezio," the conviction in her voice and the sorrow in her hazel eyes made it impossible for him to say no to her.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked. She was emotional and could quite easily make rash decisions that she would later regret. He wouldn't feel any guilt for killing Alberto, but Caterina might for asking him to do so. He didn't want her to have to suffer that for the rest of her life.

"I have never been so sure of anything in my life."

Ezio nodded soberly. "Tell me where to find him."

"The San Polo district," she replied. "He is an art merchant, and owns his own business near the Ponte di Rialto: _l__'__arte__ d__'__Italia_. There is a small repository at the back of the shop where he stores all the pieces he's to sell." She reached for a small ornamental box covered in strange, indiscernible carvings, and opened the lid. Inside was a lone bronze key, which she took out and slid towards the assassin. "It opens the door to the storehouse so you can get inside without drawing too much attention to yourself."

He stared down at the key for a few moments and made no move to pick it up. "It is one thing to think about wanting to kill someone; it is another thing to actually carry it out."

"I know," she said. "But he will not let me alone, and I cannot escape him on my own. I have tried to cut all my ties with him, but somehow he keeps finding ways to maintain his hold over me. This is the only way I will be free again."

There was so much pain clouding her eyes that he could not bear it any longer. "You will be free again, Caterina," he affirmed, plucking the key from the surface of the dressing table and slipping it into one of the pouches hanging from his belt. "I promise you that."

She took his hand in both of her own. "Thank you, Ezio."

"Come," he instructed gently, standing. "You shouldn't stay here. Not until I have dealt with Alberto."

"But where will I go?" she asked anxiously.

"La Rosa Della Virtù," he replied. "Do you know it?"

A look of puzzlement crossed her face. "The bordello in Dorsoduro? I've heard it mentioned once or twice."

Ezio smiled briefly, nodding. "You will be safe there, bella."

"I won't be made to…" She paused, raising her eyebrows in the place of words. "Will I?"

"No, no, of course not," he chuckled lightly, and held out his hand for her to help her stand. "They will simply look after you, as you deserve."

* * *

Ezio rapped on the door of the bordello, one arm draped protectively around Caterina's shoulders. The door opened and the welcoming orange glow from the sconces and candles inside filtered out into the dusky courtyard and two of Teodora's girls beckoned them inside, giggling idly. He asked after her and they tottered into the back room with their arms linked tightly together, fluttering their decorative fans at each other. A few moments later the elder beauty emerged to greet them, her dark eyes shining with kindness. When her gaze fell to Caterina her face paled as though she'd seen a ghost, and her eyebrows knitted in concern.

"Caterina?" She rushed forwards and cupped the girl's cheeks in her hands, looking at her intently, searchingly. "Are you… is it really you?"

Caterina nodded, on the verge of tears but with a small smile on her lips. "Sì."

"Oh mio dio!" Teodora exclaimed, and flung her arms around the younger woman, who embraced her tightly in return. "I thought you were dead! Where have you been all these years, piccolina?"

"Another assassin, Giovanni Auditore, saved me from Vincenzo and took me to a sanctuary in the country, not far from Toscana," she explained, her voice wavering with her emotions. "I convalesced there and remained with those who had cared for me for ten years. I returned to Venezia two years ago."

"Why didn't you try to find me?" asked Teodora, sadness clinging to her voice.

"I didn't know where to begin searching," Caterina replied sorrowfully. "I wasn't sure you'd still be here in Venezia. Forgive me."

"Of course, uccellina, I am just so happy that you're alive… after twelve years of thinking you had perished at the hands of that bastardo." She held her away from her slightly, pressed her lips to Caterina's forehead and gently brushed wisps of ebony hair from her face. It was then that she noticed the angry scarlet welt on her cheek and tilted the girl's head to one side to inspect it closely. "Who did this to you?"

"It is not important," the younger woman replied, conjuring a smile. "It is already going to be taken care of."

Teodora glanced to Ezio, who had remained respectfully silent during their exchange, and she nodded in understanding. She smiled, kissing Caterina's forehead again, "Come, I shall have my girls arrange a room for you."

Caterina turned to Ezio, whose eyes glimmered warmly in the candlelight. "Will you stay?" she asked tentatively.

She received her answer when he took her hand softly in his own.

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A/N: The story behind Teodora and Caterina will be explained further in the next chapter, but I'm sure you'll all be able to figure out how they know each other, so let me know what your guesses are :P

P.S. I hope this chapter didn't suck too much; I'm a little out of practice, so forgive me.

**Italian translations:**

Bella - beautiful

Ponte di Rialto - Rialto Bridge

L'arte d'Italia - The art of Italy

La Rosa Della Virtù - The Rose of Virtue

Oh mio dio - oh my God/goodness

Piccolina - little one

Uccellina - little bird


End file.
